HA! I'm not the only one!

We had a great start to breastfeeding.  And an awful one.  In summary:

• "perfect" latch the first time (according to the nurse) even though it hurt
• PIRANA child (bit down and sucked so hard she drew blood blisters... EVERY. TIME.)
• gained weight "appropriately"
• "nursed like a champ" every 1-6 hours (she slept a pretty long shot at night right off - the hospital staff wasn't impressed - i.e. woke us both up every 2 hours insisting that our peacefully sleeping and clearly not starving child simply must eat)
• no engorgement when my milk came in (despite serious overproduction issues that stemmed from blindly following advice that clearly wasn't working)
• baby was in general a pretty happy baby
• I hated it.

Yep.  There were no warm, fuzzy feelings, no exceptional closeness, no enjoying the new-baby smell.  I. Hated. Breastfeeding.

Now don't get me wrong, I was 100% committed to giving our baby what I knew was best for her and my husband was 100% behind me which made all the difference in the world, but every single time I nursed our baby I battled irrepressible feelings of hopelessness, even anger.  It was awful.  I loved our baby and loved holding her, cuddling her, soaking in all her babyness, just not nursing her.  On more times than I can count I either bawled through most of a nursing session or had to pass our daughter off to my husband before she could even latch on just so I could get a grip before she ate.

I figured it was the hormones.  They're supposed to be all out of whack after you give birth, right?  Or possible post-partem depression (which I won't rule out, but I figured not every day was bad, or at least not all day, so we were okay, right?)  I mean, everyone raves about the wonderful bond between a mother a nursing baby.  All the research I did said I could look forward to some soreness, yes (which the more research I do, the less true this appears to be), but most importantly a warm gush of love every time I nursed.  Well I didn't get that.  "There must be something wrong with my perspective, because I'm doing everything else right" is what I told myself over and over.  "I'm just not trying hard enough."

Enter this bolt of lightening:  http://www.fightingfrumpy.com/2009/10/im-such-boob-sequel.html

And this simple description: http://www.d-mer.org/Frequently_Asked_Questions.html

I'm. Not. Crazy.

I wish I had known more about this oh I don't know eight months ago.  I think it could have saved a lot of heartache and self-berrating.  I think I would not have felt like such a hopelessly terrible mother for not loving such a huge part of caring for our newborn.  I think I would have sought out help.

So.  For any currently nursing moms, potentially future nursing moms, and the dads and friends that support them, if something doesn't feel right, YOU'RE NOT ALONE and don't be afraid to seek out help :).

Home

Awhile back I read this post and almost cried:

•  http://www.hobomama.com/2007/12/silent-night.html

It spurred me to read a few more similar posts:

• http://www.katewicker.com/2009/02/harden-not-my-heart.html
• http://www.hobomama.com/2009/02/do-not-hinder-them.html
• http://www.hobomama.com/2010/07/christianitys-effect-on-breastfeeding.html
• http://www.katewicker.com/2010/09/let-little-children-come.html
• http://www.insidecatholic.com/feature/why-i-nurse-at-the-mall-and-at-mass.html

What hurts perhaps the most is that I feel more at home in church, sharing in the Mass with my husband, daughter, and friends and family if they're there, than perhaps anywhere else on earth.  My fervent prayer is that our baby girl feels the same.  How can she feel at home when children are intentionally sidelined into a separate room or are denied their basic needs because it might cause someone else to become uncomfortable?

The church I grew up in didn't have a cry room till I was in college.  What possessed them to add it at that point (the church was well over 20 years old) is still beyond me.  The parish was young and I relished hearing the baby babbles and little voices asking some really great questions.  I'm not talking about 8-year-old kids munching cheerios or playing Gameboys, I mean honest curiosity and just plain vibrancy that small children carry with them everywhere they go.

The priest of our parish when I was little (not the afore mentioned, this one was before I moved as a kid) used to stop what he was doing if he saw a parent stand up to take a crying child out of the sanctuary.  "Don't leave!  That child's voice is the music of angels!"  Oh how I wish all people felt the same!

Now that we have our own little one, I must say we have left the sanctuary with her on a small handful (like less than 5) occassions.  Not because she was being disruptive or we were worried about bugging the people next to us so much as because she is WIGGLY and it is much easier to rock those wiggly toes to sleep while standing as opposed to kneeling.  We've always stayed within earshot of the sanctuary (or at least a speaker) and have come back to the sanctuary within a few minutes too.

I thought we were doing pretty well with the whole family-celebrating-life-and-Mass-together thing, but we did have a surprising bump on the road.  A few weeks ago we (finally!) made it to the States and were able to celebrate our daughter's baptism (yay!).  We sat down in the front row, everyone dressed to the hilt and weary sloppy smiles because we were there celebrating Mass as a family and our baby was going to be baptized.  Well, everyone was wearing smiles except the baby.  She was hungry.  So I did what I always do... fed her.  Yep.  In the front row.  In my dress clothes.  Without a blanket.  What shocked me is that a family member leaned over and insisted, "You can't do that here!"  Well would you rather I let the baby scream or shall I run and hide?

If children (with all their sniffles, wiggles, babbles, and all) aren't welcome in church, then why on earth are we there?  Jesus says, "Let the children come to me" and by golly I'm pretty sure He means it!